Chapter 230: Ah, This Will Be Fun
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 230: Ah, This Will Be Fun
'Even if you know, can you overcome it?'
The Ferryman's question lingered in his mind.
Encrid also remembered the answer he had given.
'It doesn't matter if I don't.'
He had meant it. There wasn't a single lie in those words.
More than anything, facing the Shepherd was incredibly fun.
How should he put it?
The half-giant, Swallow Blade, Count Molsen's guard, the rapier swordsman. And the others who had stayed by his side—Rem, Ragna, Sachsen, and Audin.
Facing this opponent stimulated him more than facing any of them.
Their skills were roughly equal, and his opponent's attitude and age—everything played a part. Above all, he felt himself moving forward.
In reality, Encrid's skills didn't leap forward drastically from a single sparring match or a single death. Even if his once-blunted senses had been honed to a razor's edge, and even if he now possessed a body that moved exactly as he willed while maintaining a bold heart; even if he possessed superhuman concentration that allowed him to see and dodge incoming arrows...
Still, the sensation of moving forward could not be ignored. Especially when it brought him such sheer ecstasy.
"The stars are out."
Encrid stepped outside before Bell arrived.
Stars twinkled in the sky, and two moons hung aloft. It was the Dual Moon.
It was a night brighter than any before. The autumn night air was incomparably cooler than summer. A cool breeze brushed past his ears. Soon, this would turn into a biting cold, but Encrid liked the temperature of this brief autumn.
Rem, who had poked his head out of the quarters to see what on earth Encrid was up to now, spoke up.
"There are still mosquitoes out. What are you doing?"
Bzzz.
No sooner had he spoken than a mosquito buzzed past Encrid's ear. Encrid's left hand shot up, snatching the insect out of the air and crushing it.
With his fist clenched tight, Encrid turned around. "Going for a night walk."
"Suddenly?"
"Just felt like it."
"My, aren't you sentimental. Why? Are you pissed off because you keep losing?"
Encrid took a step forward and asked, "What would you do if there was an opponent you had to defeat without letting them graze you even once?"
"I'd smash their head in before they could even move," Rem answered readily. After all, Encrid was a man who frequently threw out random, unexpected questions.
After answering, Rem scratched his ear and added, "You know, Captain, your questions are always incredibly out of the blue."
"Is that so?"
Encrid agreed. And why wouldn't he?
There was a time only he walked. There was a today only he experienced. There was a moment only he enjoyed. Encrid's questions arose precisely because he was experiencing those moments and those timelines.
"It is rather out of the blue," Encrid replied half-heartedly as he walked away.
"Make sure to find some time to visit a temple. From what I can see, your head is well and truly scrambled."
That bastard.
His mouth was always the problem. It was thanks to Rem that the Ferryman had started spouting weird things, too.
Anyway.
Encrid thought that the wall, too, had appeared before him quite out of the blue. Was this the Ferryman's trickery? Or was life simply like this?
An unexpected moment, an entirely unpredictable death—if this was a wall like the ones before, he wouldn't be able to overcome it just with what he had learned from a single death.
And yet.
'Ah, this will be fun.'
Encrid felt an uncontrollable surge of excitement.
He walked and soon met Bell coming from the opposite direction. It was only natural, as he had been walking along the path he knew Bell would take—the path leading to the city gates.
"Oh? Where are you going?" Bell asked.
"Where are you going?"
"Uh, I was on my way to call you, Captain."
The same conversation from the previous day repeated. Encrid recalled what he knew.
From the moment he was cut by the cleric, he heard a head-splitting scream—a monstrous shriek that sounded as if it had risen from the depths of the abyss. It felt less like a sound and more like something dragging him down by his ankles.
Of course, that wasn't the important part. Whatever had burrowed into his body was neither a spell nor poison. If he had to describe it, it was like the spiteful scream of someone driven to madness.
'For now.'
He pushed aside what he had recalled. First came the fight. First, the clash. Even putting his sword aside, his opponent's skill was superb.
Let's see. Shall he start like Rem suggested?
Encrid couldn't hide his excitement, and a constant smile played on his lips. Seeing this, Bell tilted his head. No matter how one looked at him, this man did not seem sane.
"If you're feeling sick, we can just turn them away," Bell said with concern.
"No."
Encrid was firm. His eyes were wide, and his back was straight and upright.
"Huh?"
"I said no."
Encrid's steps were incredibly light. If the members of his company knew the situation he was in, they would all shake their heads in disbelief. Could those really be the steps of a man walking toward his death?
He looked more like a child skipping off on a picnic.
With light, brisk steps, Encrid walked out of the city gates. Once again, the familiar conversation came to an end.
"Well then."
Encrid took his stance, and his opponent drew a dagger. Ecstasy, excitement, and anticipation pounded against Encrid's heart. It made the hair on his entire body stand on end.
Encrid followed Rem's advice.
Thump.
In an instant, he unleashed the Heart of Monstrous Strength to its absolute limit and swung his sword.
Whoosh.
Heavy Sword Style: Lion Slash.
The sword swept down in a vertical slash. It was brutally fast, a dynamic strike capable of cleaving a moving body in two in a single breath.
Seeing this, his opponent reacted. He judged that this was not a strike to be blocked with a mere dagger.
Clang! Clack!
He half-drew his sword from its black, rod-like scabbard, holding the hilt with one hand and the scabbard with the other to block the blow.
Clang!
The Lion Slash was blocked. As Encrid poured his strength into pushing forward, his opponent did the same.
Screeech.
The two blades met in a sharp greeting. The duet of steel on steel began.
With their blades crossed, Encrid and the Shepherd locked eyes. Though brief, they measured each other's capabilities through their gaze. Encrid realized anew that this man's skill might be even greater than what he had seen in his previous loops of today.
'What if he's originally a swordsman who was just using a dagger?'
If so, that would explain it. Of course, it didn't matter. Whether his opponent drew his sword or not was his opponent's choice. Encrid had decided to push forward with his own.
Watching from a distance, Bell swallowed hard.
With that, their blades parted. Soon, a fierce battle identical to the previous loops ensued.
Encrid pressed his opponent hard. He ignored the minor cuts from the dagger. As long as his vital points were safe, he sought to strike his opponent whenever they were within reach. Relying on his physical senses and innate athletic reflexes, his movements aimed to end it in a single blow.
In the end, the Shepherd drew his sword again. It was a different strike from the one that had cut his forehead before.
Ting! Tang! Clang!
The Shepherd deflected Encrid's light, one-handed thrust with his dagger, tossed the sword still in its scabbard upward, drew the blade, and threw the scabbard aside.
Having entered a state of deep immersion, Encrid reacted to every single one of his opponent's movements. He forcefully pulled back the sword that had struck the dagger, turning the downward momentum into a heavy Snap Strike, and blocked the flying scabbard with his forehead.
Even as the scabbard struck his forehead with a sharp thwack and bounced off, Encrid did not close his eyes. If he didn't lose sight of his opponent's sword, he could dodge it. He had his Sense of Evasion. It wasn't impossible.
Whoosh!
As the Shepherd snatched the sword he had tossed into the air, the blade curved like a snake and slashed Encrid's cheek. He had dodged, but he was short by a mere half-inch.
It was a fierce clash, a battle fought in a state of absolute immersion.
'I saw it, but...'
His opponent's skill was formidable. By Encrid's estimation, he was a cut above Swallow Blade. To avoid being grazed even once by such an opponent's blade was difficult—far too difficult.
Of course, just because it was difficult didn't mean he would give up. He merely engraved what he had learned from today's clash into his mind.
Screeech.
Once again, the scream rang in his ears.
"Ah, whew, I shouldn't have done that. I cut you without thinking," the man muttered.
Groaaan, groaaan.
A monstrous shriek, as if rising from the depths of the abyss, dragged at his ankles. His body was growing heavy. Through his prior experience, Encrid already knew what was happening. And while a pain he knew could kill him, it could never stop him.
"What is that sword?"
"...Do you happen to have it?"
"I'm about to die anyway. Just answer me."
"You can still speak after being cut? What a fascinating person. This is a sword possessed by a demon's soul. I swore never to use it on people recklessly. So, I'm sorry."
His words were disjointed. He was still a scatterbrained fellow.
"Yeah, I get it. Pel."
"...Did I mention my name?"
He hadn't. Encrid had heard it during the first loop of today.
That was the end of it. He died.
"You are a madman."
The Ferryman appeared for the second time in a row. Seeing him, Encrid spoke his mind without thinking. He hadn't intended to; it was just that in this dream, he couldn't hide his inner thoughts.
"Are you bored lately?"
The Ferryman's body swayed on the boat. The purple lamp swayed along with him. Silence fell. It was brief, but incredibly quiet, for the Black River made no sound.
At the end of the silence.
"You son of a—"
The Ferryman tried to spit out a curse, but Encrid woke up right then.
The moment Encrid opened his eyes, he immediately badgered Ragna.
"Is there a swordsmanship style that can block any strike?"
"Where did you hear about that? That is the ultimate height of the Soft Sword Style."
The Soft Sword was a deflecting sword, a flowing sword. A sword that achieved offense and defense simultaneously.
"Do you know how to do it?"
"The basics."
If it was a speed and timing that even his Sense of Evasion couldn't dodge...
'Then I just have to block it.'
He decided to do just that. After learning the basics of the Soft Sword Style from Ragna, he set out again in the evening.
As always.
'Today will be even more fun.'
Thanks to his two experiences, he had identified a few of his opponent's habits. Today, he would make use of them as well.
And so, the third today.
"Do you know me?"
"No."
"Then why are you looking at me like that? Is acting friendly a habit of yours?"
The Shepherd tilted his head. Encrid ignored him.
They clashed again. Only after falling for it did he realize that what he thought was a habit was actually a trap. He barely managed to endure, clashing swords again and again.
Slash.
This time, the blade grazed his thigh. Since he wasn't wearing armor, the blade sliced through his trousers and left a wound.
Once again, the scream, the monstrous shriek of the abyss. When he managed to say something, the same question returned.
"Do you happen to possess it?"
What did he keep asking if he possessed?
"What?"
The Shepherd replied as if asking something completely obvious.
"Will."
"No."
Encrid couldn't utter more than a few words after that before he died.
How should he put it? This death felt incredibly unpleasant. His throat hadn't been slit, nor had his heart been crushed. If he had to determine the cause of death, what would it be?
'Heart attack?'
Even for Encrid, who died repeatedly, clearly feeling his heart stop was an uncommon experience. In any case, something burrowed into his body from the wound, tearing through his mind and shaking him. That was all. If he had to make a comparison...
'It feels like a bug crawled inside me.'
That bug was incredibly swift and relentless, tearing his body to shreds. It squeezed and crushed his heart.
The fourth today, the fifth today. Encrid honed his Soft Sword Style.
By the time he had repeated today twenty-eight times.
"I look forward to this."
By now, his opponent's swordsmanship was becoming familiar to his eyes.
"I'm warning you in advance, I won't be held responsible if you die."
Shring.
Encrid, with just a few swings of his sword, forced the Shepherd to draw his blade. Encrid tried to dodge, and he tried to block. He repeated this over and over.
The wall that had appeared so out of the blue repeatedly gifted Encrid with death.
On his forty-seventh attempt, Encrid muttered the moment he opened his eyes.
"If dodging and blocking both don't work?"
It was a rare morning where Rem, who was beside him, had woken up early. He spoke up.
"...Alright, spit it out. What kind of dream did you have this time? I used to interpret dreams back in my youth. Come on, what was it?"
"A dream where I die if I'm even grazed."
Encrid was honest.
"Hey, you have to be more specific than that. Your attitude is all wrong."
Encrid brushed himself off, stood up, and went about his usual daily routine. The Isolation Technique, physical training, and honing his Soft Sword Style.
"Did you already know some of this? Or did you learn it somewhere?" Ragna asked as he watched Encrid's sword. He was pointing out that Encrid's skill had improved leaps and bounds overnight.
Encrid didn't even register it. His mind was in a tangle.
'Is the wall simply about killing a guy who fights well? Is that all it takes?'
He was contemplating the very premise of what a "wall" was. Come to think of it, the walls the Ferryman spoke of were never ordinary.
'The Stabbing Freak.' From the very beginning.
'The magic trap.' From the trap that suddenly exploded.
'Having to use only one hand.'
None of the walls were simple. When he was heading toward the enemy's flagpole, his opponent had been none other than sorcery itself. Then, what was it this time?
By the time seventy loops of today had passed, Encrid managed to inflict a major wound on his opponent's body.
Thud!
Thanks to the blade sweeping beneath his chest, the Shepherd coughed up blood. The impact, which felt more like a blunt strike than a cut, seemed to have damaged his internal organs.
"Fuck, you didn't dodge and just charged?"
Encrid had swung his blade like a blunt weapon even as he was cut by his opponent's sword. The Shepherd spoke informally for the first time, his eyes wide with shock.
"I saw an opening."
"Even though I told you that you'd die if my sword pierced you?"
Yes, he had said those words before they started.
If you are cut, you die. Even a graze is fatal. I don't want to push things that far if possible. I just want to test our skills with a moderate spar.
But why should he do that? Encrid truly, sincerely, absolutely did not want that. This was a fight pushed to the absolute limit, an opponent who made him pour out everything he had for the first time since Mitch Hurier.
'If you are the wall.'
What would happen if they died together? A question formed in Encrid's mind.
And on the eighty-ninth today, that question was answered.
"Urgh!"
He had taken his opponent's sword while piercing a hole through the man's stomach. His blade tore through the skin of the belly, sliced the intestines, and shattered a few ribs to boot. The moment Encrid drove his sword in, he twisted his wrist and pulled it out.
Blood poured from the wound. The Shepherd's face turned deathly pale. Blood splattered onto the ground, leaving a wound where, if there had been sunlight, pink intestines would surely have been visible.
Clutching his stomach with his hands, he muttered, "Ah, I can't die here. I have so much to do..."
The Shepherd's eyes grew hazy. Death was written all over his face. His gaze drifted toward Encrid, then wandered off into the empty air. Finally, his eyes settled back on Encrid, and the Shepherd said, "There was no need to go this far."
"Is that so?"
Encrid's neck had also been slashed by his opponent's blade. He spoke while clutching the wound with his hand, making his voice sound raspy. The wound wasn't deep. Though blood was gushing out, it wasn't a wound that would normally kill him.
The only problem was that the Shepherd's sword was far from ordinary.
In the midst of this, something had changed.
'I can endure it.'
It had been over eighty loops of today. That meant eighty repetitions of the exact same experience. Without realizing it, Encrid was resisting whatever was dwelling within his opponent's sword.
Even so, the outcome did not change. Death loomed. Along with the scream, something roamed through his entire body as if it owned the place, gouging at his heart and brain.
"Holy shit! Captain!"
He heard Bell's voice from behind. Because he had delayed his death, he was able to hear Bell's approaching shout.
It was the morning of a new today.
Encrid lay with his eyes open, lost in thought for a moment, before pushing himself halfway up. Returning to his routine, he finished his Isolation Technique at dawn and had just stepped back into the quarters.
In front of all the company members, he asked, "Who here can use Will?"
He now felt with absolute certainty that he needed to awaken it, even if only a fraction of it. He had resolved to overcome it when the time came. And he believed that time had arrived.
He wouldn't be able to cross it in a single bound. He didn't believe he would become a Knight all at once. But when it came to a mere glimpse of it, the time had come to reach out his fingertips.
That was what Encrid thought. That after walking and walking, now was the time to reach out.